Peter's Abduction
by little.tel
Summary: OneShot The full story behind Peter's abduction and subsequent torture. His thoughts during the interrogation. Rated T for torture. Would be in simply the Hurt category because there is no real Comfort in it.


Peter placed the box of files on the table and began rifling through it when he heard his phone go off

10/19/08

**Peter's Abduction**

Peter placed the box of files on the table and began rifling through it when he heard his cell phone go off. Pulling it out of his pocket he flipped it open and glanced at the caller ID before saying, "Hey man, thanks for calling me back so fast." He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and resumed his search through the files.

"Look don't start with me right now." Said Peter slightly annoyed. "Well this time I'm calling to ask for a favor too." As he spoke he pulled out his birth certificate with a picture of his dad and him stuck to it. He gazed at the picture for a moment before pulling it away from the certificate as he continued his conversation on the phone, "Nah, I need some work. Well I don't really care as long as it puts some money in my pocket."

After putting the picture and the birth certificate down Peter resumed his search through the files. "Any where but Boston." He added. He listened for a moment and then gave a quick, "Okay." Before flipping the phone shut and ending the call. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued flipping through the files. He quickly found the ones he wanted and pulled them out.

Setting them down in a pile on the table Peter picked the box up and went to put it back where it went when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His body immediately tensed and his instincts told him to be on high alert. A sudden gunshot noise followed by something else Peter couldn't describe echoed through the lab and he felt the box blown from his arms. Realizing that he had been the intended target for that shot, Peter dove to the side behind one of the desks.

Scanning the room, Peter spotted his attacker half hiding behind a filing cabinet. Puling a glass beaker off the table he took aim and chucked it. He was more than a little surprised when he actually managed to hit the guy, let alone knock the gun out of his hands. Taking advantage of this turn of fortune, Peter quickly darted out from behind the table towards the exit. Unfortunately his attacker must have expected this because he found himself tackled to the floor before he got anywhere near the door.

Peter grunted as he was slammed into the floor. Not wasting any time, he flipped his attacker off of him and stood up as quickly as he could and settled into a fighting stance. His attacker stood in a similar stance a few feet in front of him. Peter's gaze flickered to the door for a second and in that instant his would-be kidnapper attacked.

Peter was caught completely off guard by the speed of the attack and the first two punches got him in the face, one to the temple and one to the jaw. Peter staggered under the onslaught and swung back only to have his attacks easily parried to the sides. This continued for a while with Peter steadily collecting more bruises while his attacker rarely got hit.

Tired of being punched around, Peter pretended to punch and instead tackled the guy. The two then proceeded to roll around on the floor swapping punches. They crashed into a multitude of things including Gene's pen, scaring the poor cow so badly that she broke out and ran off. In the confusion of Gene's terror, Peter's attacker managed to stun him with a blow to the head long enough to retrieve his gun.

Peter lay with his back on the cold ground as he stared up into the barrel of his attacker's gun. He shivered slightly at the impassive look that was on the man's face but couldn't do much before he squeezed the trigger and another gunshot followed by an unexplainable sound echoed through the lab. Peter's eyes widened as the shot hit him and his mouth opened to scream in pain, but he found he couldn't make any noise. He felt like he was being electrocuted. His body spasmed in pain for a full three minutes before his eyes finally rolled back in his head and he fell unconscious.

**Scene Cut**

Peter groaned slightly as his eyelids fluttered open. His entire body ached all over and he was having trouble breathing. He felt as if he had been beaten up and then electrocuted. He groaned again and closed his eyes as he remembered that that was exactly what had happened.

Opening his eyes again Peter tried to look around the room, but realized that his head was strapped down along with the rest of his body. He struggled for a moment, but quickly stopped as it became harder and harder for him to breathe. From his limited range of movement, all he could see of the room was the ceiling and the strange machine sitting right beside him.

The sound of a rusty door opening caused him to jump slightly, jarring one of his many bruises and eliciting a gasp of pain from him. The sound of footsteps coming closer made him tense. Peter couldn't see the man until he came within five feet of the table he was strapped to and entered his field of vision.

"You don't work for Big Eddy," panted Peter, still trying to get his breathing under control, "do you?"

The man once again walked around Peter and then out of his field of vision. Peter strained to follow him with his eyes, but found it impossible with his head strapped down so tightly.

"I think you got the wrong guy." Shouted Peter, his fear escalating as he heard the man flipping switches and hitting buttons where he couldn't see him. The man came back and stood over him and Peter gulped before continuing, "All I'm saying is, whatever it is you think you want, I don't think I'm going to be able to give it to you."

The man didn't respond, instead he began fiddling around with the machine that was resting next to Peter. After a few moments he finally turned his attention fully to Peter. In his hand he held two wires with pads on their ends. He stared at Peter for a moment before he placed one hand on Peter's head and then used the other one to push one of the wires into Peter's nose.

Peter struggled, but the combined force of the straps and the man's hand made it impossible for him to move his head at all. His eyes squeezed shut as the wire was forced farther upwards towards his brain and his body tried to buck itself off of the table in response to the pain. He clenched his teeth together as he bit back a yell of pain. He struggled almost twice as hard when the man then repeated the process with the other wire.

When the man finished he stepped away and calmly placed a wire on the side of his head. Peter simply lay gasping on the table, his whole body shuddering. The machine beside him began blinking rapidly and the man stared at it for a few seconds.

"You have something I need." Said the man, speaking for the first time. "Tell me where it is."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Panted Peter.

"I'm going to ask you some questions. Please answer honestly." As he spoke the man turned a dial on the machine. Placing his thumb on a switch he asked, "What's the most pain you've ever felt in your life?"

Peter's gaze flickered between the man and the button his thumb rested on. The day he was mugged and injured six years rose unbidden to the surface to his mind. He remembered how much it had hurt when the mugger had stabbed him with that knife.

All cognitive thought stopped the instant the man pushed the button with his thumb. Peter's body arced off the table and a high-pitched noise filled his ears as pain swept through him. He felt as if his blood was boiling and he could only give muffled grunts as the pain flared through his body. He knew that this night would redefine his idea of pain. After a full two minutes of sheer agony the man released the button.

"You and your colleagues had the cylinder last. Where is it now?" asked the man.

"I have now idea." Panted Peter, barely conscious because of how long the man had held the button down. "And even if I did," he added, struggling for each word, "you're the last person I would tell."

As if trying to escape the pain of the present situation, Peter's thoughts went back to his last confrontation with Walter. He didn't know where the cylinder was, Walter never told him. Besides if he told this guy anything he'd probably kill him anyway.

"But you just did tell me." Said the man. "Your father hid it but you don't know where. And, yes, to answer your question, when this is over I just might kill you. It depends on a few things." The man stared hard at Peter for a minute before asking, "When was the last time your father kissed you?"

"I think that's your lamest question yet." Said Peter, his sarcasm reappearing as he stared up at his captor.

"Yeah?" said the guy. And before Peter could do anything the man had pushed the button again and he was thrown back into a world of pain. Peter's eyes rolled back in his head as his body spasmed.

"Think about your father." Ordered the man, still holding the button down.

The man watched him intently as Peter grunted in pain. Unwillingly, Peter's thoughts flew to his father. He struggled against the pain and his bonds as his mind flashed with the memory of his crazy father sitting in St. Clair's saying his first words to him in seventeen years.

"Good, good." Said the man quietly. "Now think about a time before he was sent away to the institution. A happy time, a time when you still believed that your father loved you."

Peter moaned in pain as the man's question brought things to his mind that he didn't want to think about. He didn't like his father. He didn't want to have anything to do with his father. Seventeen years wasn't enough time to heal the pain. He didn't want to think about his childhood.

Peter felt the pain and pressure increase in his head as he struggled not to think about his younger years. The pain was physical and his body spasmed and his eyes rolled from the pain. But like a dam the memories wouldn't be held back once they had been triggered and he felt himself drowning in them.

His father giving him his first chemistry kit when he was six and the experiments they did. Helping his father work on the old car where he hid everything. Planting the tree in the backyard with his father. His father teaching him to ride a bike when he was five. Helping his father move the cupboard for his mother to hide the dumbwaiter where he used to hide in their old house. His father reading to him every night. The trips to the lake that they would take as a family every Thanksgiving till the accident happened. And finally he thought of the last time his father had kissed him.

The man studied Peter for a long time, watching him writhe in pain, before he turned away and released the button and fiddled with the dial on the machine. "Besides his car and his old house does your father have any other hiding places?" asked the man after he turned back to Peter.

Numb from the last bout of pain Peter's mind was completely blank as he stared up at the man.

Growing angry the man yelled, "Answer the question! Does your father ha-" he stopped suddenly, his voice dying in his throat as he stared straight into Peter's eyes. A smile lit the man's face and a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he continued to stare down at Peter.

"Thank-you." Said the man, causing Peter's confusion to grow. "You just told me where the cylinder is."

Peter could only stare at the man uncomprehendingly as he listened to him. His mind was too foggy from the pain to do anything but wonder how that was possible since he didn't know where the cylinder was.

Without saying another word to him the man walked to the very edge of Peter's field of vision, picked something up from a shelf, and then walked back to stand beside him. Peter tensed slightly when he saw that the man was holding a syringe. His tension only grew when the man quickly prepped the needle and then, grabbing Peter's arm, inserted it into a vein. Peter struggled slightly but was too tired to do much of anything. The man pressed the plunger down and Peter shivered as he felt the liquid draining into his bloodstream.

Once the syringe was empty, the man pulled it from Peter's arm and disposed of it. Peter felt the effects of whatever it was immediately. His muscles began to relax and his eyelids became steadily heavier. The man merely stood above him and watched him struggle with the effects of the drug. As darkness enveloped him, Peter hoped that it was just a sedative.

**Scene Cut**

Peter opened his eyes and was slightly terrified to realize that he had simply traded one darkness for another. There was no difference in the lighting whether he had his eyes opened or closed, so he kept them closed. He felt and heard the rumbling of an engine and he realized that he must be in the trunk of a car, though this realization took much longer than it should have.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut as the car he was in suddenly went from a paved road to a gravel one and the ride became much bumpier. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from whimpering as the many jolts jarred his sensitive skin and made his pounding headache worse. Peter tried moving his hands slightly but found both of his wrists tied tightly together.

The car came to a grinding halt and Peter let out a sigh of both relief and dread. Relief, because the pain-inducing ride had stopped and dread because he didn't know what would happen when the man who'd tortured him opened the trunk. He found he only had to wait a few moments before the trunk was popped open and the man was shining a light in his face.

"Come with me." He ordered, just as impassive as ever.

The man took a step back as Peter slowly obliged, his aching body making it almost impossible for him to move at all. The man grabbed the shovel from the trunk after Peter had climbed out and handed it to him. Peter fumbled with it for a moment, because of his tied wrists, but eventually got a relatively firm grip on it. With a slight push from the man's gun, Peter started walking. Going where the man pointed with his flashlight.

Eventually the two came to the edge of a graveyard and Peter somehow managed to drag his aching body over the rotting fence. The man followed him easily and began shining his light over the different headstones till he brought it to rest on one with a familiar name.

'Robert Bishop' read the headstone, obviously a relative of Peter's.

"Shame you never met him." Said the man with a glance in Peter's direction.

Peter remained silent as the man examined the grave a little more before turning to him once again and ordering, "Come on. Dig."

Moving slowly because of both his aches and because of his unwillingness, Peter began to dig.

"Careful." admonished the man as he watched Peter start.

Peter didn't reply and continued digging, going at a slow, steady pace. He worked quietly and efficiently. Only moving if the motion would assist in accomplishing the completion of his task. This made his work slow, but he didn't strain his body.

Almost twenty minutes after he had started, Peter had found the cylinder. The man motioned for him to back away from it and Peter did so. Lowering the shovel to the ground, Peter folded up beside the grave, his body slightly hunched from both pain and cold.

So Peter sat and simply watched as the man finished the last of the retrieval himself. He pulled the Cylinder, wrapped in some black cloth, from the dirt and set it in front of him. He pulled the cloth off and looked the cylinder over as if to make sure that it was real.

The sound of a twig snapping caught the man's attention and he quickly pulled the cylinder tight to his chest and, standing, collected his gun from where he'd put it on the gravestone. The man turned to Peter for a brief moment, but then was quickly off running through the woods.

Turning towards the direction of the road Peter saw Olivia running towards him, climbing over the fence into the graveyard.

"Olivia! Over here." he called as he flipped the shovel up on its edge and began using it to cut his bonds.

Olivia ran over to him and shone her light in his face. "Are you okay?" she asked, both her face and voice filled with worry.

"He went that way." Said Peter, refusing to answer her question. He knew he wasn't okay, but no one else needed to know that. "Go." As she ran off he added, "Be careful, he has a gun."

He watched her run through the trees for a moment before returning his attention to his bonds and trying to cut them. The sounds of gunfire only spurred his efforts. After a few seconds he somehow managed to get one wrist free and was able to untie the remaining one.

He stood shakily for a moment after he'd freed his wrists before heading in the same direction that Olivia and his captor had gone. The gunshots stopped a little after he had entered the forest and he hoped Olivia was all right. He stumbled through the underbrush for a while but came to a halt when he heard a strange noise fill the air. Moving much more slowly he quietly walked towards the area it had come from.

He probably would have bypassed the strange man entirely if he hadn't moved. It was a bald man in a suit standing half hidden behind a tree. He pulled out a cell phone like thing and clearly said, "Departure on schedule." and then clicked it shut.

Peter's brain was working much faster by this point and he quickly realized that this must be the Observer and he must have been talking about the cylinder. Without a second thought, Peter threw himself through the air and smashed into the Observer's back, knocking them both down to the ground.

The Observer stood immediately from where he had fallen as Peter straightened and demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

The Observer didn't say anything, merely looking at him. So Peter continued, "What is the cylinder?"

"You know what it is don't you?" The Observer was speaking only a few seconds behind Peter and with every word their voices were becoming more in-sync. "Why here? Why now?"

Peter stared at the Observer completely baffled and more than a little unnerved. "Who are you?" he asked. Only to have his words said at the same time by the Observer. Randomly Peter said, "Apples, bananas, rhinoceros, I wanna hold your hand," slowly the Observer was beginning to say the words and phrases before Peter, "Lucy in the sky with diamonds."

"You know my father? Did you talk to him this afternoon?" Peter wasn't speaking anymore. Now it was simply the Observer, somehow putting Peter's thoughts into words before he even said them. "Are you his friend?" As the observer spoke he stared Peter straight in the eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Without warning, the Observer raised his arm and Peter noticed for the first time that he was holding a gun. The Observer pulled the trigger and a strange buzzing noise filled the clearing as Peter felt a pain in his chest. Peter let out a cry of pain as this new pain mixed with the older pains that he had received throughout the day and he collapsed backwards to the ground unconscious and clutching his chest.

**Scene Cut**

Peter blinked his eyes open once again and coughed as he tried to take a deep breath. His lungs and ribs felt like they had been squished, even small breaths were painful. His head felt like someone had tried to beat it in with a baseball bat, so he figured he probably had a concussion. Fighting cries of pain, Peter slowly struggled to stand. Once he had achieved his goal he used a small pine tree to support his weight as he tried to figure out how to breath and keep the world from spinning..

The sound of leaves crunching caught his attention and his head snapped up at the sound, his aching body tense and on high alert. He relaxed though as Olivia came into sight, her slightly confused face changing into one of worry at the sight of him. Using all of his self-control, Peter wiped the pain that he was feeling off of his face and simply stared at her. He still held onto the tree, he knew he wasn't strong enough to let go of that yet, but he didn't want to worry her.

As she came closer, Olivia once again asked, "Are you okay?" Her face showed her worry even more clearly now then it had when she'd first seen him in the graveyard.

And once again Peter refused to answer the question, "What happened to the cylinder?" He had his suspicions after hearing what the Observer had said, but he wanted to make sure.

"It disappeared." Said Olivia, disappoint obvious in her voice. She took another look at Peter and the worry once again surfaced. "You need to get to the hospital."

Usually Peter would argue as much as he could against going into a hospital, but he knew he needed it. His body was telling him he needed it. So Peter simply nodded and straightened as much as he could as he pushed himself away from the pine tree.

"Do you need help?" asked Olivia.

Peter shook his head but didn't say anything. He was too busy focusing on simply breathing and standing upright. With a small grunt Peter slowly started walking back towards the graveyard and the cars. With a small helpless sigh he heard Olivia follow him.

When they finally reached the parking lot it was filled with federal vehicles and one ambulance. With a small smile Olivia patted him once on the back and then left him in the hands of the medics. Peter winced internally at the pat but didn't show any of the pain he was feeling. He gave her a small wave as she walked off to be debriefed. Without another word to anybody, Peter found himself loaded into the back of the ambulance with only a lone paramedic for company.

Laying on the stretcher the paramedics had forced him onto; Peter felt the events of the day catching up with him. He felt the exhaustion of his struggle with his abductor, the remnants of the pain his abductor had put him through, the exhaustion of the physical labor he had done in his weakened state, his mental exhaustion from trying to fight off his abductor's machine and the confusion of his meeting with the Observer, and the pain from being shot with an unknown weapon. For the first time that day, as the ambulance rolled away from the parking lot, Peter fell asleep naturally.


End file.
